


Dad's In Charge

by chimaeracabra



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Sex, Smut, dad bucky, dad!bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 19:00:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14479122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimaeracabra/pseuds/chimaeracabra
Summary: Bucky's babysitting skills are put to the test when you come home to him and your children from a night out with your friends.





	Dad's In Charge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheLadyMaul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyMaul/gifts), [allebiouqruop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allebiouqruop/gifts), [Jade01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade01/gifts), [dubiously](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dubiously/gifts), [BrinaMay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrinaMay/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Secrets Aren't for Keeping](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2799851) by [chimaeracabra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimaeracabra/pseuds/chimaeracabra). 



> *Ahem* I know I have been AWOL. I'm still working on getting my life together. But I'm not dead. I saw Avenger's: Infinity War on Friday night. That fucking ending...NO. NO! I refuse. Anyway, I dug back in the dust of my stories and remembered I wrote something happy about Bucky approximately ten months ago. I posted it elsewhere and never put it here because I don't usually write in 2nd person anymore. 
> 
> Anyway, it is based off of Secrets Aren't for Keeping, my infamous Steve/OFC/Bucky/OFC story. So the reader is essentially Cherise, and it may be worth that read to understand bits of this. Or not. I'm not telling you what to do. Gifting this piece to some folks whose reviews on SAFK warmed my heart way back when. I can't believe I wrote that story 3 years ago. Hi, I'm not dead. Sorry for being a ghost. 
> 
> Anyhow, I might also be doing a little story that continues from this, about the Infinity War ending, which I'm still BEYOND PISSED AT (I don't care if that's what was supposed to happen. I don't like it)! There's NO SPOILERS for that in this little vignette, though.

            Upon opening the door, your daughter, Christina, comes screaming at you with a baseball bat, pausing and smiling when she recognizes you. She drops the bat in the hall and continues to you with a big smile on her face. Your heart rate gradually decreases, and as the six-year-old jumps into your arms, you nearly trip over your dog, Bob, an aging brown lab, as he comes to also greet you.

            "Mumma," Christina says, jumping up against you. Naturally, you pick her up, her brown hair waving past her waist, curled up in her little face. She looks more like her father than you, which you have always been okay with.

            "Stina, you gotta get down for a second honey. Mommy needs to put her stuff down," you say, walking into the kitchen and pausing when you find it to be a mess; there's what looks like a big cup of apple juice spilled on the floor, which Bob gravitates towards to start lapping up, and there are eggshells on the counter, the frying pan Bucky had used still sitting on the stove, the refrigerator door is half open (which you assume to be Christina's work), and paper towels are falling off the rack onto the floor, a stool at the bar kicked over and Christina and Theodore's lunchboxes sitting there.

            "Ugh…James?" you call as Christina runs over to the fridge to close the door, saying she didn't spill the juice that's on the floor, but you already know she did.

            "Baby, you should have asked daddy to get you juice. You still aren't big enough to pour it without making a mess," You explain.

            "It wasn't me—it was Teddy!" Christina retorts, but you know that her toddler brother was not the culprit. You sigh, shaking your wet umbrella and setting it on the kitchen table.

            "Thanks, Bob," you mumble, eying the dog as he shamelessly laps up the juice. Christina squats to start rubbing his head, telling him that he's a good dog.

            "James?" You venture further into the house and turn the corner into the den to find that Bucky is asleep on the couch, his metal arm strewn over the edge, his hand stuck inside a large red bowl, which is half-filled with popcorn. The TV is on, and Teddy, your two-year-old son, is making car noises while he attempts to push himself forward on his small rocking horse, chocolate smeared across his mouth, his overalls unbuttoned, shirt missing, the diaper he should still be wearing sitting wet in the corner. You walk over to the coffee table to pick up the wrapper of the giant Kit Kat bar you had hid in the freezer a week ago, knowing that Bucky is too weak to deny his little boy his favourite treat, even when you _specifically say_ to save it for the fourth of July.

            "Mommy!" Teddy calls, laughing as he tries to giddy up towards you. You can already smell urine, and as Christina comes stampeding into the den with the bat Bucky had bought specifically for Teddy when he found out you were having a boy during your second pregnancy, you grab the bat from her and tell her it's time to get in the tub. At this, she screams, and Bucky sits up straight, looking as though he has forgotten where he is for a second. You sigh again as Christina starts stamping her bare feet on the floor, saying she doesn't want to get in the tub. It is past both hers and Teddy's bed time, and Bucky had promised you he'd get them in bed by 7:30—8 at the latest. It's 8:10 now as you spot the time on the TV clock.

            "What did I tell you about acting out like that, Christina? We go through this almost _every night_ ," you explain, picking Christina up with difficulty. She starts to struggle and you sigh again.

            "H-hi, honey," James says, scratching the back of his head a moment, his eyes wandering over to Teddy's diaper on the floor.

            "God, James," you sigh, throwing your head back, Christina just about on your shoulders like some sort of shawl, "I leave you alone with the kids for just a _few_ hours, and this is what—ow!" You scream as Christina whacks you in the face and you nearly drop her. She leaves you clutching your nose as she runs to hide somewhere and avoid the tub. Her hatred of baths has increased ever since her hair has grown long. She doesn't enjoy the detangling process you have to go through every day to get her hair to look nice.

            "Christina Natasha Barnes!" Bucky calls, getting up to see if you're alright where you lean against the wall, "Don't hit your mother, young lady!" Bucky calls up the stairs, although neither of you heard the girl storm off in that direction. He's met with silence as you rub your nose.

            "Oh, Y/N, I'm sorry, baby. I fell asleep with Teddy," Bucky explains, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your forehead.

            "I did _exactly_ what you said. I heated up the leftovers from last night, and I made scrambled eggs, too, 'cause that's what Stina wanted. I was watching a movie with them and then I was gonna put them _straight_ to bed, but I fell asleep," James blabbers, knowing you are _not_ happy to come home and find the house in chaos. You decide that you're just lucky the house didn't burn down. You give him a reluctant smile while pushing him away.

            "Your son has wet his pants. How did he get his diaper off?" you ask calmly. Bucky's eyes widen as he leans down to pick the toddler up.

            "Oohhhh," Bucky says with mild disgust, "All over Mr. Rock Rock, Teddy? You were supposed to tell daddy when you needed the toilet," he explains. And as the child claps and smiles like he doesn't know any better, you give Bucky a look that lets him know _he's_ the one who'll be Clorox wiping the floor and Mr. Rock Rock, your son's favorite toy.

            "Let's get you cleaned up, buddy, okay? Then I gotta find your sister and put her to bed, too," Bucky explains.

            "Bed?" Teddy says, clasping his hands to his cherubic face and shaking his head. Bucky laughs.

            "Yeah, buddy. You should be sleeping right now," he explains as Theodore yawns.

            "Say night night to mumma," Bucky says, pausing with the boy in his arms very close to you. The urine is strong as Teddy leans into your chest, wrapping his arms around you. You can't help but smile and kiss his little forehead, even though he's getting melted chocolate on your white blouse. He's younger than his sister, but somehow much less fearful of baths and bedtime.

            "I'll clean it up," Bucky promises, "Just let me take care of him. You go find Christina." Before you have the chance to yell at him, Bucky kisses your temple and retreats with Teddy to the bathroom upstairs. You sigh again and turn the TV off, grabbing the bat Christina had been running around with and trying to figure out where to hide it that she won't find it. You decide on the basement; she's terrified of that place. You shake your head, thinking it unwise for James to leave the bat out in the hall where the kids could just grab it and do damage.            

            As you walk back into the kitchen, calling Christina's name, you go to throw away the Kit Kat wrapper and realize that the front door is wide open.

            "Christina?" You call with a pang of fear. You know that you closed and locked the door as soon as you got in, before Christina could jump up on you. You step out of your high heels, no longer able to take the pain they've put you in.

            "Christina?" you call again, walking out into the rain. Thunder cracks in the sky, and you know that your daughter is out there somewhere, and you start to run down the street, calling her name like a madwoman, until something running at you under the streetlight causes you to pause.

            Steve slows to a stop with your daughter in his arms. She's crying, and he looks at you surprised to see you out there without shoes on. A bit of blonde hair sticks out from under Steve's hood, and you can see that he's trying to shield Christina inside of his sweater. Just her head peeks out, and she calms down a bit when she sees you.

            "What are you doing out here?" you ask her.

            "Let's get inside," Steve urges, and he follows you into your house, where you nearly slip on the tiled floor. The Captain hands you your daughter, who is shivering now and dripping wet.

            "What happened?" you ask desperately.

            "I was about to ask you the same question," Steve explains with wide eyes, unable to stop looking at Christina. He rubs her back once, clearly wanting to be sure she's alright.

            "Somebody started knocking really hard on our door," he explains, and you're just relieved that he and Natasha happen to live close by. It could have been some other stranger's house Christina ended up on the doorstep of.

            "I was shocked when I opened the door and found her out there. She was crying her eyes out, then said she didn't want to take a bath, wanted to stay over at mine and Nat's with her cousin," Steve explains. You sigh with relief, but you place Christina on her feet and stoop to her height, speaking to her with a firm voice.

            "How—many—times…do daddy and I have to _tell_ you, Stina? You _can't_ go opening the door and running outside _alone_. _Especially_ at night," you explain. This isn't the first time she's done something like this to you and Bucky, striking such fear in your hearts that you had gone insane looking for her.

            "I d-didn't mean to, mommy," she mumbles. You sigh, hugging her. Steve eyes the kitchen behind you.

            "I'm sorry, Steve—this just…I just got home. The house is a wreck. I'm sorry to disturb you—"

            "Hey," Steve says, extending a hand, letting you know it's alright, "I'm just glad she's okay," he explains, "It's no trouble _at all_. You know our door's always open to you, and your kids…even if they _are_ just runnin' away from bath time." You recall that Bucky had taught your daughter to run over to her uncle Steve's house if ever there was an emergency where mom and dad were hurt and needed help. Bucky could be paranoid about yours and your children's safety sometimes; you knew full well that if ever someone were to try to break in, for example, they'd only be entering a beatdown zone if James was home (not that you didn't live in a fairly quiet and safe neighborhood). But Bucky had taught Christina to run to safety next door quite recently, and now you realize that perhaps the girl doesn't understand what actually constitutes an _emergency_.

            "Hey, since I'm here," Steve states, walking past you to pick up the children's lunch boxes and stool that had fallen, "Let me just help out a little bit. Looks like your hands are tied," he explains.

            "Steve, you're amazing," you breathe, sitting Christina on a stool to wipe the mud off her feet.

            "What's up, boy?" Steve says cheerfully to the dog who starts sniffing at him and wagging his tail. Steve fixes the mess of paper towels before wiping up what's left of the juice spill on the kitchen floor. This is one of the things you've always loved about the Captain, even after your divorce; he's always willing and ready to help out around the house, not that Bucky isn't handy, but he doesn't exactly have a predilection for washing the dishes. He starts straightening up other things and you pause in wiping the mud off your own feet.

            "Oh—Teddy had a little accident in the living room. I'm saving that mess for Bucky."

Steve catches your eye and laughs.

            "He fell asleep on watch," you explain, "And Teddy's still not quite potty trained. Managed to take his diaper off and pee himself," you explain.

            "Oh, no. Poor kid," Steve grins.

            "Least he didn't poop in the dining room closet again," Christina states blatantly. Steve pauses in throwing the eggshells by the stove away to laugh. You roll your eyes.

            "He _did_ , uncle Steve," Christina explains, sniffling, having calmed down dramatically.

            "Alright, honey. I don't think uncle Steve wants to hear all about poop," you interrupt, smoothing the hair out of your daughter's eyes. Steve laughs, wetting a paper towel and adding a drop of dish liquid to it before wiping down the counters. Christina joins him in laughter before staring at your nose.

            "I'm so sorry I hit your face, mumma," she says regretfully, reaching her arms around you to your surprise. Steve looks at you with some concern, like he wants to say something, but just keeps wiping the counters instead. Christina tends to hit a lot, not that neither you nor Bucky have taught her to do so.

            "Alright, baby girl. It's time for your bath and then bed."

Christina sighs, resting her head on your shoulder as you stand and make your way to the hall. Bucky coming in stops you in your tracks, and he looks surprised to find Steve there, cleaning up your kitchen.

            "What happened?" he asks.

            "Nice to see you, too, Buck," Steve says, "Nothing much. Your daughter just ran over to my house in the pouring rain 'cause she didn't want to take a bath." Bucky looks on at your daughter with wide eyes, but she's already pretending to be asleep on your shoulder. She doesn't want to get a talking to from her daddy. Steve laughs as the girl feigns snoring.

            "Uh, Teddy's in bed now. I washed him up and cleaned his teeth," Bucky explains.

            "Thank you," you breathe, trying to start past him. But he grips your wrist, leaning close to Christina's ear.

            "Christina," he says in a reprimanding tone, "You know you're not supposed to—"

            "Alright, alright, James. I don't want her getting upset again," you explain, pushing past him. Christina kicks him in his metal arm on your way out of the kitchen, blowing raspberries as well.

            "Don't kick, Stina," you state. You swear you hear Steve laugh through his nose, Bucky telling him not to encourage her.

 

            By the time you crash down in bed, Bucky's about to get his own shower; he had been preoccupied simultaneously talking to Steve and cleaning up Theodore's peed on horse toy and the floor in the living room. Steve had actually stayed to load the dishwasher, and gave you a kiss on the cheek before walking back over to his house. You look up at James as he strips to get in the shower.

            "Y/N, baby…I'm just glad Teddy didn't take a shit this time," he mumbles. And you laugh to yourself, turning on the news on the TV that sits ahead of your bed on the dresser. You sigh, wondering if your night out with your friends had been worth it. If Steve hadn't decided to stay and clean up, you're sure you'd be downstairs scrubbing dishes and cleaning up the kids' mess still. When Bucky makes it into bed with you, he is so exhausted that he turns the lamp off on the night stand immediately.

            "What did you learn?" you ask. Bucky rolls onto his side, facing away from you.

            "I'm tired. Can we talk in the morning, baby?" he asks.

            "What—did—you—learn?" you ask, making your way on top of James under the covers. He groans, rolling over, and you straddle him, grabbing his full attention. He sighs.

            " _Never_ fall asleep with a potty-training toddler around?" he asks. You laugh, rubbing his chest, and he starts to smile, grabbing your hips.

            "Y/N, I'd fuck you, but I'm too tired," he says.

            "From _what_? All you did was sit around watching our kids."

            "Well," Bucky says, glancing to the side for a moment before meeting your eyes again, "Taking care of kids is a full time job. I don't know how you don't just drop dead every day."

            "Well, you have yourself to thank, mister. You wanted a boy so badly, so you got one."

It hadn't been this difficult training Christina to use the toilet. It didn't help that Teddy was afraid of the porcelain throne. Bucky laughs without energy.

            "I know. I did. I should have just stopped at our little monster," he says, referring to Christina.

            "Shhh—don't call her that," you interrupt, frowning. Bucky sits up against the wall, more life in his expression.

            "What? She hasn't stopped being screamy and kicking. She kicks now—didja notice, Y/N? She doesn't listen to me, either. Such a stubborn little thing," he says, shaking his head.

            "Shhh. No more kid talk," you whisper, shoving your hips against Bucky. He drops his head back, unable to resist getting excited the more you rub up against him.

            "If you don't stop that, doll, we're gonna be blessed with yet another baby. We'll be cleaning up piss for the next decade—"

            "Shhhh," you interrupt, and eventually, he's totally awake, focusing on you, grinding back against your hips. He starts nipping into your neck and you moan.

            "Fuck," he whispers against your flesh, "Why, you naughty little girl," he says, narrowing his eyes at you. His hand dives for the small drawer connected to the nightstand where you keep the condoms.

            "What the fuck?" he whispers impatiently, feeling around the drawer.

            "Hold on," he says, turning the lamp back on, and finding the condom drawer empty.

            " _Shit_ ," you mutter, "I was gonna pick some more up on my way out to hang with my friends," you explain. Bucky throws his head back against the wall. You start to climb off him, but he grabs your waist.

            "Please, Y/N. I can't go to sleep with _this_ ," he explains, pulling you hard against his junk. You blush a moment and keep trying to climb off him.

            "Sorry, Bucky. I'm sure the nearest drugstore is closed now. We should just go to sleep," you explain, giving him a quick kiss. He groans.

            "I'll…I'll just pull out. We'll be fine, sweety," he says, turning so that you end up beneath him. He tugs your pajama pants.

            "You're not serious, are you? That's how we got Christina," you explain. Bucky smiles slyly.

            "Well, that's not _entirely_ true. We got Christina 'cause I _didn't_ pull out. Trust me, Y/N, I know what I'm doin'."

            You laugh as he lifts your shirt to kiss your stomach. Christina wasn't really an accident; she was the result of years of _trying_ to get pregnant, and for some reason, it wasn't working, but one day, somehow it worked and you were both shocked to find out you were pregnant. Before Christina was born, you both assumed that you couldn't get pregnant. Trying had taken so long that after she was born, you never really used condoms. It wasn't until Bucky had started begging for another baby that you started making him use condoms.

            Bucky just wanted a boy, and Theodore was an accident, the result of trying the "pull out" method for a few months. Or perhaps God's way of giving Bucky what he wanted. After that, you swore up and down that you would never be able to endure another pregnancy, and Bucky was alright with that, because now he had a son. So you'd started using condoms religiously, and have been for the past two years of Theodore's life. The condoms were really _your_ suggestion; Bucky didn't think them necessary, considering how difficult it seemed to be for your body to conceive, but you found yourself unable to have sex with your husband without fearing you'd get pregnant again. If not right away, then perhaps six years after Teddy was born it would happen again. So to sooth your nerves (and to get you to continue being intimate), Bucky started using the condoms you bought, though he didn't like not being as close to you as humanly possible.

            Regardless, you pull his head from between your thighs where he's kissing you, having successfully coaxed you out of your underwear. He moans, pulling his boxers off and freeing his erection. The sight of it gets you wetter, but you think about the accident your son had downstairs tonight and wonder whether you're willing to risk having unprotected sex again. The heat of the moment gets the better of you and Bucky slips inside of you with ease, moaning, his breath catching in his throat.

            "God, yes," he exhales, trembling on his arms momentarily where he balances on top of you. You cup his cheeks in your hands, deciding that if you got pregnant again, you'd want to have a little girl, perhaps more well-behaved than Christina. Bucky starts to sway his hips, causing you to moan and part your legs further. He allows his weight down on you, pausing for kissing, twisting his fingers into yours with his metal hand. It's not long before he picks up the pace and you know it's about to be time for him to stop, thus ending your pleasure. But the sound of little feet running to your door catches both your ears. Both you and Bucky look to the door in fear as Christina comes running through, saying that there's a monster under her bed, and you're just thankful that the covers are hiding you and Bucky from the waist down.

            When he grunts with finality, you gasp, looking up to find him in as much shock as you are. You feel him empty inside of you, a sensation you haven't experienced in some time, but are no less familiar with. He tries to stifle a moan, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to your forehead before getting off of you abruptly and keeping the covers around his waist as Christina jumps up into your bed. He holds her, telling her it will be okay. You start trying to throw your pajamas back on, but Christina catches sight of your naked body.

            "Why is mumma naked?" she asks, suddenly distracted by you. You are now standing up out of the bed, shoving your feet back into your pajama pants, feeling Bucky's cum start to slide down your inner thigh. He glances back at you, his chest red and breath still catching from all the action.

            "Uhhmm…she was just trying to figure out what to wear to bed, sweetheart," he says, kissing Christina's cheek.

            "Daddy, why's your shirt off?" Christina asks innocently, pressing her hands to his chest. Bucky laughs, clutching the quilt at his waist. Christina gasps, pressing her ear to his bare chest.

            "Daddy—your heart's beating," she says excitedly. You grab her now and start out of the room, giving Bucky a chance to get dressed.

            "There's no monster, baby," you explain, carrying her into her room. She cries for a moment.

            "There _is_ , mumma," she says. You turn the light on and look under her bed. She stands in the corner.

            "Nope. Nothing there, peanut," you explain.

            "Are you sure?" she asks, "I want daddy to look," she says. Shortly, Bucky walks into her room and holds his hair back out of his face as he bends down to look under Christina's bed.

            "No monster, baby girl," he explains, picking her up and placing her back in bed.

            "What about this cool new night light daddy bought you last month? Wasn't it on?" Bucky asks, turning Christina's light off. The night light glows, but she whimpers.

            "Don't turn it off, daddy," she cries.

            "There's no monster, Stina, no one's gonna hurt you," Bucky explains. You realize that it's going to take a while before either of you can leave her to sleep on her own again. You sit on the end of her bed, rubbing her back, and Bucky drags the chair from her desk to sit by her bed and read her a book. It takes around fifteen minutes for her to fall asleep again, and the two of you sneak out of her room, leaving the hallway light on and her door ajar. Bucky pauses to check in on Teddy, who is fast asleep, to both of your relief.

            "Fuck," he mutters once you close the door gently. You sit in bed and stare at the TV, until Bucky can't take it anymore and grabs your hand.

            "I tried, but Christina came in and scared me," he explains regretfully. He turns the TV off, forcing you to look at him. You shake your head tiredly.

            "I'm sure you'll be fine Y/N. Remember how long it took for Christina to happen? And we were _trying_ at the time," he explains, rubbing your shoulders and kissing your cheek. You end up being too tired to care and just nod.

            "Come here, baby. Let's get some fuckin' sleep. You know those kids are going to be awake before we've had enough." At this, you laugh, facing your husband where you lie. He turns to flick the lamp off and you doze off into his chest, enjoying the scent of him, his arm securely wrapped around you.

           


End file.
